


Silence

by Sinclaironfire



Series: Duck Feels [3]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Donald Duck - Freeform, Donald cries, Donald realizes some stuff, Everyone Needs A Hug, Have some Duck Feels, Heavy Regret, Hindsight is a bitch, I Don't Even Know, I still don't know what a word limit is, Lack of Communication, Lost Time, People grieve differently, Regret, Scrooge McDuck - Freeform, Scrooge cries, Scrooge gets a hug, past mistakes, repairing family relationships, severed family relationships, that did not happen, this was supposed to be two hundred words max
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 20:57:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12328740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinclaironfire/pseuds/Sinclaironfire
Summary: Because that was what their relationship was for ten years: SilenceORDonald learns not to skim through emails.





	Silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cybra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cybra/gifts).



> For Cybra because she came up with the idea. Also, when will I learn what a word limit is?

Donald Duck could count on one hand the number of times he saw his Uncle Scrooge express genuine grief. That is to say that his uncle wasn’t an emotional person but that he had a habit of keeping his emotions close to his chest. Donald supposed that it came with the life that Scrooge had lived through. People could be cruel and vicious. Being taken advantage of, being schemed or threatened was just a normal part of the routine when you lived in the Klondike or were a fur-trapper or worked on a steamboat. When you got to be as rich as he did, keeping yourself hard-hearted was the only way to keep yourself safe.

It was just who Scrooge was or so Donald thought until he tried to talk to him about how much he was paying Mrs. B and Launchpad. The old man became defiant, told him that it was none of his business at how much he paid his friends.

Friends.

Donald didn’t doubt that his uncle had friends. Scrooge could be personable when he wanted to be and his razor-sharp wit had left Donald laughing plenty of times. What he did doubt that he would be friends with his employees. They were paid to be his workers, to keep the house steady and to drive him around, not to be his friends. He didn’t have someone like Panchito or Jose who sent him postcards from Latin America. He didn’t have Mickey who kept him updated on things back in the old neighborhood or Goofy who he went to talk about parenting advice. Donald paused and tried to think of his Uncle Scrooge’s friends. None came to mind.

There’s Goldie, he thought. But she did kidnap him once and the whole thing with the Klondike was just a mess.

So Goldie was placed under Frenemies. Glomgold, The Beagle Boys, and that De Spell woman who disappeared years ago…those were all enemies. It got to the point that he stopped keeping track of them all. There were too many of them, with too many revenge for X reason, with their own stupid shtick. All he needed to know that they were trying to kill his uncle and anyone else who got in the way. That was enough for Donald. It kept things simple.  

But his uncle’s friends? Not so simple. And so, Donald came to the conclusion that his uncle Scrooge had two friends at the moment: Mrs. Beakley and Launchpad.

That’s not too bad, Donald nodded to himself. A person didn’t need a million friends but rather a few close ones to help when things got rough. Mrs. Beakley and Launchpad seemed to be the right kind of people for when things got hard to handle. They obviously cared for him. But Donald stuck on the subject of his uncle’s friends, couldn’t stop thinking what Scrooge had said to him.

_“I don’t have friends, I have enemies. People don’t want to hang out with me, they want to see me hang. So, if I have to pay Mrs. Beakley and Launchpad then fine! I don’t care! I’ve got plenty of money.”_

It left an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. His uncle was one of the most insane, fearless, and cunning people he knew. The fact that he thought he had to pay for Mrs. B. and Launchpad to stick around worried him more than he would ever admit.

“It can’t be that bad…” Donald said to himself as he turned over in his bed. “Right? It’s not that bad.”

He closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep. Sleep did not come. Instead, Donald spent most of the night staring at his ceiling, trying to ignore that awful feeling in his stomach.

“If it is that bad,” he said to himself. “Then the board or someone would have a rule set in place to prevent him handing out money like that. Right? Right.”

Why the board though? Why not his family? The people who should be there for him?

Guilt surged through Donald. “It is his money. He can spend it on whatever he likes.”

What if someone manipulated him?

“Shut up.”

He’s vulnerable.

“Shut up.”

He’s alone.

“We’re here,” Donald told himself. “We’re here for him now.”

You weren’t there for him then.

“Like he was there for us?” Donald scoffed at still small voice inside his head and flipped over onto his stomach. “Scrooge screwed up. It’s a two-way street,” he scowled. “He could have reached out.”

Then was that thing about an email?

Suddenly, that awful feeling in his stomach got worse. The only email that Donald could recall from his Uncle Scrooge was when he wanted to go exploring. Things were suddenly presented in a much harsher light.

“No…,” he told himself. “That wasn’t…it couldn’t have been….”

What was or wasn’t, one thing was clear to Donald: he would not be getting any sleep for the rest of the night. He reached over to his nightstand and grabbed his phone. He searched through his email. Nothing was ever really deleted, right? The email had to be in there somewhere. He searched through the archives but it wasn’t. Donald couldn’t find it but he was undeterred. If he didn’t have the email then Uncle Scrooge probably did. He never threw anything away.

Without wasting any time, Donald got up from his bed. He grabbed his robe and left his room. The halls of McDuck Manor were vast but as a child, Donald knew them well. It was strange, he had been gone for ten years but nothing really changed around the place. Donald pushed his nostalgia to the side, he had business to do. He went straight to his uncle’s office. To his surprise, the door was unlocked.

Donald peeked inside. Just because the door was left unlock didn’t mean that his uncle didn’t leave a trap or two. Using his cellphone for light, Donald looked down. A thin piece of wire shone through. He looked up and saw a bag of something heavy hanging above him.

“He still uses the classics?”

The trap was easy enough to disarm. So were the ones surrounding his uncle’s desk except those had darts laced with what appeared to be knock-out poison.

When was the last time I saw one of these, he wondered as he sat down at Scrooge’s desk.

At least it was easy to get in but getting into Scrooge’s computer was another matter entirely. The computer was old. It had to be older than the boys. Donald wasn’t going to be stopped by ancient technology. The email was somewhere in there and he was going to get it. The computer was password protected. Uncle Scrooge wasn’t the kind of guy who wrote down his passwords like Uncle Ludwig. His mind was a steel trap. There wasn’t a victory or slight against him that he ever forgot. Still, there were only so many passwords that Scrooge would in theory use.

Number One Dime?

Donald shook his head. It was too predictable.

Adventure?

It was banal.

Donald drummed his fingers against the side of his face. What would his uncle use as a password? Donald sat up and typed.

FAMILY.

The home screen blinked a few times before it welcomed him. Donald clicked on the email icon and searched through his uncle’s email. There was stuff from Gyro, emails about financials from the board, a reminder from Fenton about something called Project Blathering Blatherskite.

“Where is it?”

He scoured the records for it. It took him a while. It was nearly dawn when Donald finally found it. Before he pressed open, Donald stopped himself short. He had broken into his uncle’s office, disarmed his traps, and “hacked” his uncle’s computer. Scrooge would be pissed but Donald just had to know. He wasn’t prepared for what he found.

_I haven’t heard from you in a while and I’m sorry that our relationship has gotten this bad. I won’t pretend that I know what you’re going through. Donald, I don’t want to lose what’s left of my family. There’s a lost mine that I know of that’s not too far away. It would be great to go on an adventure with you. We could talk. You can keep all the treasure or I could put it in a trust fund for the boys when they get older. To get to the mine, we’d have to cross the ocean. I need a capable sailor. You’re the only one I trust to traverse the sea with. Please, let me know._

_Sincerely,_

_Scrooge._

Scrooge had tried reaching out.

Shit.

He rejected him.

Double shit.

They spent ten years in complete silence because of one stupid mistake.

Donald cursed. What had he done? “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the Guinness World Record holder of Being an Asshole!”

He stood up from the desk. Ten years – wasted. Ten years deprived of familial contact. Donald took in a deep breath. He couldn’t believe it. Looking back on it, he should have knocked or waited until morning but he’d already wasted ten years. He didn’t want to waste a second more. Donald raced out of the office. Down the halls, past the bedrooms, he made a beeline for his Uncle Scrooge’s room. The door was thrown open with a bang. Donald all but tackled his sleeping uncle.

“OY!” Scrooge held his arms up, ready for a fight but when he saw Donald, he scowled. “What is the meaning of this?”

“We need to talk!”

“It’s three in the bloody morning!”

“Uncle Scrooge, I read the email,” Donald said, shaking. “I read it and I…”

“What?” Scrooge asked worriedly.

Donald groaned, blinking the tears away. “I screwed up. I didn’t read it…I was busy with the boys and I…Uncle Scrooge? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He hugged Scrooge as tight as he could. He heard Scrooge shakily exhaled.

“You…you didn’t read it the first time?” There was shock and disbelief in his voice.

Donald didn’t let go. “No. I’m sorry. I was busy with the boys and I…” he shook his head. “I wasn’t in a good place. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t read it.” Scrooge laughed which turned to sobbing. “Oh, you didn’t read it…”

“I’m sorry…”

“No, I’m sorry.” Scrooge hugged back. “Ah, lad, we screwed up.”

“We did.” Donald agreed.

They sat there, hugging each other. Scrooge sniffled quietly. “Donald? Do you still want to go to the lost mine?”


End file.
